To Swing

May is here,My lonely Kettlebell has been sitting untouched (except for when I stub my toe on it crawling into my sleeper) for over a year. At a wide spot in the road on highway 191 between Great Falls and Laurel Mt I feel inspired and decided to crank out three sets of twenty. In between sets I walk around my truck huffing like a bull elk wondering if this is where I die, just kidding, I actually feel more alive than I've felt in the last year of driving. Maybe it's the springtime stirring my soul, or the backdrop of snow kissed mountains and the smell of new grass and baby cows watching me with cheeky curiosity in between lusty pulls from their mothers full udders. In my opinion there is no exercise that accomplishes so much in less than ten minutes. I jump back in the truck and start driving; the fuzzy vision I had from eating a liverworst sandwich purchased in the Amish store near Eddies Corner an hour before, is gone. The tingling in my legs and feet has turned from a dull roar to an existential question mark. Lack of exercise is the pre-diabetics bane. The Kettlebell is the best tool I've found to fight back against this sedentary existence.